


Masquerade

by darthpunk



Series: My Star Wars Smut [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blindfolds, Costume Kink, Costumes, Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Glove Kink, Gloves, I'm Not Ashamed, Just Sex, Leather Kink, Masks, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpunk/pseuds/darthpunk
Summary: Kylo Ren comes for you at a masquerade ball out in the real world...There's just a lot of sex happening here. A lot.





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: dubious consent at first. Maybe. Depending on how you read it. But better avoid it if that's not your thing.
> 
> Written between TFA and TLJ so doesn't take TLJ Kylo into account in any way.
> 
> There are boyfriend mentions in the beginning but that can be skipped.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't even pretend that this takes place in the Star Wars universe.. people and powers are tweaked to suit my purpose.

You are invited to a ball. Technically a Halloween party but in reality more of a masquerade ball. Also, technically it's your boyfriend who is the one who is invited, not you, but he doesn't want to go because he "hates Halloween". But you should go, he says. You are the one who loves masks, after all. He says the last part with a sly smile that you choose to ignore. But he is right, of course. You do love masks. This has been a joke to him since that bloody Star Wars movie came out and he found out about your weird Kylo Ren infatuation.  
So you go. No one will know it's you anyway, it can't be a disaster that way. You just plan to go there, look at everything, and then leave. You won't know anyone there so it should be easy to just blend in and be left alone. Also, this is the perfect opportunity to get to wear one of those Venetian carnival masks that you love. So you go. Hoping it won't be an Eyes Wide Shut orgy-type ball. Who knows with these trendy types.  
You have been trying to persuade him to join you all day but he is having none of it. And besides he needs to get an early night because he has work tomorrow so he doesn't "need you around as a distraction".  
"But won't it be weird if I go alone? I'm not the one who is invited after all."  
"It's a costume party, why would anyone care? There'll be hundreds of people anyway, no one will pay any attention to you."  
Okay then.

This is when the dress and the mask turn up. You open the front door and there's a man, handing you a dress bag and a box. Your boyfriend says that he didn't get it but why else would a dress and a mask suddenly appear by messenger at your door? You tease him with it for some time but he seems insistent on pretending to know nothing and accuse you of getting it yourself. So you leave it at that. He will come clean eventually.

So... you go. Wearing the dress which can only be described as tight. Very tight. Good God, you had no idea dresses could be so tight and still fit without breaking. You look in the mirror and you pretty much look like a masked Morticia Addams which isn't a bad look at all. But still surprising to you. Your mask is a beautiful scary thing and there is a feeling of distance when you look at yourself in the mirror and don't recognise yourself. Alienation.  
You look around for him before you leave but he seems to be in the shower. This new look is giving you an odd confidence boost so you just walk in to the bathroom, pull aside the shower curtain, and wait. He turns and looks at you, at first with a slightly confused look on his face, as if he doesn't even recognise you. But then... it changes into something else. Something you have come to know very well. He is naked, wet, his eyes roaming your body with no attempt to be discreet, finally coming to rest, predictably, on your chest. You may not have thought this through. You back away from him, suddenly a bit worried that he will grab you and ruin your dress, the whole look, but he just stands there. Naked. You are very aware of how naked he is.  
"Get back here quickly so I can rip that dress off," he just says. And closes the shower curtain.

The corset takes some time getting used to. You have to sit unbelievably straight and your breathing tends to be shallow and... well, chesty. Which is another thing about the corset. It pushes everything into a new gravity-defying dimension and when you accidentally look down while you are in the back of the car, you're slightly amazed by the sight. You are even tempted to touch that soft white skin spilling out over the top of the corset but you don't, touching yourself in the back of a car, no matter how innocently, is not on your agenda today. It could send the wrong signal.

Even if you know he is right, even though there really are hundreds of people, you still feel slightly out of place. Everyone is very fancy, but then again so are you today. It's a huge explosion of colour, all kinds of costumes, traditional Venetian carnival costumes, Halloween witchy vampire costumes, pop culture icons, there's more than one Batman. All masked though, no matter what. You reach up and try to scratch your cheek under the mask, this thing is uncomfortable as hell, so warm and heavy. But it looks good. You have to remember that. It's an intricate white thing, with blood red painted lips and a black feathery... something, you have no idea what to call it, at the top. You wonder where he got it from. Or why, even. Since he wasn't going.  
You look across the hall and see a bar and the next question arises: how do you drink when you are wearing a mask? You guess the answer is: you don't. So far no sight of orgies either, thank god, even if you can see why that would be tempting in a situation like this. Because everyone is no one. Because of the masks. But still, you wouldn't want to suddenly find yourself in the middle of an orgy.  
There's music, like a background soundtrack, maybe there is a dj somewhere. No dancing, though, not that kind of party. At least not where you are, but it's spread out over several rooms so you can't rule it out. Or the orgies, you suppose.  
You manage to get a drink and a straw and just as you are, very stealthily, trying to stick the straw under your mask, some joker comes up and tries to talk to you. As in literally The Joker. The Batman joker. You have never enjoyed strange men trying to talk to you in public, and you particularly don't enjoy it now that you are in a relationship. Not that this joker would know, of course. Since here you are just a woman in a corset trying to suck alcohol through a straw. You doubt he would even have bothered talking to you if he knew you but again, that's the joy of the mask. The anonymity. And that's when you realise you don't have to be yourself, you can just pretend to be someone else. You can be anyone. So you talk to him a bit, as an exercise in deceit. Your name is now Nina. And you work in publishing. You also appear to suddenly have a European accent of indecipherable origin.  
The Joker (who is a banker of course) seems quite happy with all this and he starts talking about things he has done, seen, all to impress you but without even bothering to ask you anything or listen when you talk. Young men are so idiotic, you think, as he drones on and you try to get another sip through your straw. You look around, scan the room as he talks to you, and that is when you see him, standing there across the room. Kylo Ren. Except... it can't be him. Except... you feel your mouth go dry and every sound in the room is turned down and you feel a nervous heat in your stomach. It feels like fear. But it can't be fear. You have nothing to be afraid of. But it feels like fear. Like a small panic. And you are not even sure why. Since it can't be him. Since he doesn't actually exist. Since he is just a character in a movie. But nevertheless you are looking at him. The black robes, gloves, the cowl. Everything. The helmet. This goes beyond any costume here, this is not someone playing dress up. If you didn't know better, you would think that it was... but that's impossible. But whoever this is, he is now coming through the crowd, towards you. And you realise you are holding your breath, not even completely aware of the reason why. But you get the feeling... you get the distinct feeling that he is coming for you. And you feel your grasp on reality slowly slip away. But that could of course be the alcohol.

The Joker is still talking by your side, oblivious to everything around him, as you turn to him and say: "Sorry, I have to go."  
You hear him object vaguely behind you as you turn and make your way through the crowd, away from that other man. It's just too silly. It is clearly just some guy in a costume, you tell yourself, because he. doesn't. exist. Kylo Ren is not a person. It's that simple. Even if you have always felt something for him, something dark and forbidden, he isn't a real person. He is a character in a movie and you, you are actually in a relationship. So you don't need to be confronted with these desires in real life, outside your fantasies. That is just too bizarre. And of course he isn't coming for you. He doesn't know you. He is a man in a costume probably trying to get to the bar. Not that unusual at a party.  
You should go home. You are slightly unsettled by all this, by reacting like that to a stranger, just because he is wearing a costume. A costume that you (probably not most other people) have come to associate with sex. Because you have thought about that. You have thought about it a lot. From that first time you were sitting there in the cinema years ago and you felt... something. That you definitely weren't meant to feel during what was essentially a children's movie. But it's almost like a sick Pavlovian response now, you see that costume and you get turned on.  
You are almost at the door but you turn around for one last look. He is still there. In the crowd. Not easy to miss. He is incredibly tall, and all that blackness, and... your thoughts trail off as he turns to you, he is definitely looking at you this time, even if you can't see his face you sense it, and you feel something. Like you are being hunted. And you know you should leave, just turn around and leave, now, just do it. But you don't. You are somehow frozen to the spot.  
He starts coming towards you, the crowd dissipating around him, and you don't know why you don't leave. You feel a bit dizzy, could be the alcohol, could be lack of oxygen through the mask, could also be the fact that you are being stalked by a huge black monster. Really, it could be anything. It's probably the last of those options, though. He comes to a stop right in front of you and you can't move. It's a very literal deer in the headlights situation. You think all these things, your mind is functioning as it should but your body is just not listening to it anymore. Your body just stands there. Petrified. And you feel a blush run over your face, thank god for the mask.  
So now what? Should you speak to him? The thought seems absurd, having a casual conversation with a stranger in THAT costume. Besides you don't really want to. You are not really interested in him. You just want to get a look at... all of it... up close. For reasons. And later use. Like when you are alone, at night... wait, are you really standing there in front of a stranger, planning to masturbate to the thought of him later? Yes. Yes, you are. And how could you not? Look at him. Not only is he huge, there is also sense of something dangerous, some barely contained rage, something... about him. It's probably just the costume but you don't care. In fact you hope it's just the costume, that this isn't a genuine crazy person standing in front of you. Something about the texture of the cowl makes you want to reach out and touch it, run your fingers over it, you really just want to touch everything. You hadn't even noticed but your arm is starting to reach out to him but you quickly lower it again. He might not have noticed. Except he obviously noticed.  
Why isn't he saying anything? It's only been a couple of seconds (you are capable of lots of thoughts in a very short time, apparently) but it's still a bit weird. Maybe he can't speak through the mask-helmet-thing. That's probably it. But it doesn't make the whole situation less surreal. He is just standing there, looking at you, his arms down his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he is... wait a second... you know that. Your eyes snap back up to his mask and before you know what is happening, he grabs your arm and drags you through the door, into an almost empty hallway.  
"Wait! This dress is too tight, I can't keep up," you are shouting this at him as he drags you, almost hurting your arm (there is no almost about it, he IS hurting you), through the now empty corridor, and you keep almost tripping in that dress, high heels, none of it really built for speed.  
"Damn it, wait!"  
He stops abruptly, so abruptly in fact that you bump into him. It's like running into a brick wall and for a split second you have doubts. Why are you letting this happen? This man is a stranger. Dragging you off to who knows where. A tiny shot of terror runs through you but before you react on it, he looks down on you, tilts his head.  
"No." Just the one word. And without warning you are picked up, like you weigh nothing, and thrown over his shoulder and carried off.

Whatever this is, whatever is happening... you ought to be scared. At least more scared than you are. Here you are, upside down, one hand holding your mask in place (you don't want to lose that in the heat of things) one trying to hold onto something but all you get is a handful of black cloth. You are starting to get dizzy again. This time most likely from being upside down.  
"Please put me down.... I don't like this..."  
Instead of shouting, this time you say it quietly, mostly to yourself since you doubt he listens or is even able to hear anything inside that helmet. But you hear him open a door and you are taken inside and immediately he gently puts you down and backs away from you.  
"Thank you..."  
It takes you a second to get your head to stop spinning. It's dark in here but there is plenty of light coming in from the outside, street lights, traffic, a whole city of lights. You look around what appears to be some sort of small conference room. You look back at him. He is really blending well into the darkness, but there he is, a massive dark quiet shadow.  
He takes a step towards you and you instinctively take a step back.  
"Wait." You hold up a hand and he immediately stops.  
"Before this continues... before we... I have to know... I have to know… what are you?"  
He pauses for a second, clearly considering this, how to approach this. You can hear your own breath but he is quiet. A massive black hole lingering in front of you, threatening to swallow you whole. He takes a step towards you again and this time you stay where you are. He bends down slightly (not as much as you'd have thought since you are wearing those insanely high heels), you feel a hand slide around to the small of your back and you know that hand, you know that feeling from your fantasies, and he leans closer to your ear, his gloves hand touching the painted mouth on your mask, and says: "Why do you think I got you all this? Just so I could let other men enjoy it?"

You gasp. Before you can even stop yourself, there's a very audible gasp escaping you. That voice. That unexpected detached electronic voice. Which is clearly his. Like something sinister and threatening crawling out of your deepest fantasies.  
He backs you up against a table, the hand on your back keeping you close against him. You can feel how hard he is against your hip and he just holds you there. As if he is trying to prove a point. You feel a hand on the back of your head, slowly untying the mask and your hands go to your face, trying to hold it in place.  
"Don't," he says, "I want to see your face when I take you. I want to see what you look like when you get what you have been wanting for so long."  
You hold your breath as he slowly lifts it off of your face and puts it down on the table. You feel unexpectedly naked. There is something incredibly vulnerable about being the only one not wearing a mask.  
There is a hand moving down your thigh now, he goes down on one knee in front of you and there is a loud ripping sound as he rips the seam of your dress, all the way to your hip, in a nice straight line, with surprising ease. Did he plan this as well? Have you been wearing some sort of rigged dress? Before you can consider this any further he rips your underwear off and stands up in front of you and you feel a knee forcing your legs apart, forcing its way between them. His hand is still on your lower back as he pulls you closer, the coarse fabric of his trousers grazing your clit, making your head fall back with a sigh.  
"Oh. I think she liked that," he says, almost teasingly, the sound still making you shiver in his arms.  
"Look at you.... (he says this while slowly pulling you against him once more, this time much more deliberately rubbing you against his thigh)... so desperate for me. After all this time."  
Your fingers reach out for him, trying to touch something, settling for grabbing at the fabric on his arms and shoulders. He keeps rocking you against his thigh in an agonisingly slow rhythm but you don't mind, you can't think about anything other than how good it feels, how good he feels when he does that.  
"Maybe I should just make you come for me before I fuck you. Would you like that?"  
You don't even get the opportunity to answer him before his gloved hand shoots to your throat, fingers closing tight around it and he presses his thigh against you, as his other hand controls your rhythm completely. Your eyes close and you squeeze your thighs around his, feeling him grind you against it and just like that you come, an unexpected gaspy moan coming out of your mouth as you grab his shoulders and bury your face in the cowl, rubbing yourself against him until it hurts.

You keep your face hidden in his shoulder. Until you feel a gloved hand carefully open your legs and release his thigh from the iron grip that you are apparently holding him in without even noticing it.  
His fingers start circling your entrance very lightly, barely touching the still hypersensitive skin, and your head jerks up as you try to pull away from him. Which of course you can't, since he is still holding your very tightly corsetted waist in place.  
"Stop. Please. It's too soon, I need a minute to recover."  
His fingers find your clit, and you let out a yelp of pain when he slowly drags one long gloved finger directly over it.  
"You don't get a minute to recover." That terrible voice again. It shouldn't be turning you on so much but it is and you are defenceless against it.  
"You get one minute to come for me again."  
The words are barely sinking in as you squirm against him until you feel two fingers being pushed inside you and start moving with a purpose. And that's when you realise it. He is going to force this orgasm out of you. No matter how painful it will be.  
He finally removes the hand on your back and you let yourself fall backwards, down on the table, as he is effectively fucking you on his fingers, curling them slightly and pressing hard against that odd little spot inside you that he is too good at finding. His other hand holds your hip now, as forcefully as it held your back before, and somehow, you don't know how, you suddenly feel a fingertip on your clit again, stroking it in hard tiny circles, and the sound of it all, that filthy dirty sound of your wetness against leather makes you lose your breath and you come again, hard, grabbing his wrist and pulling him deeper inside you.

Your eyes are closed as you feel him let go of you and for a brief blissful moment you think it might be over. That he has had his fun. That you might get a bit of time to relax. You don't know how much more of this you can take, not that you are not enjoying it (god, you are enjoying it and he knows it) but it's exhausting and your body can only take so much, or at least that's what you assume. And the way he is going at you so aggressively is exhausting in itself.  
It only lasts until you feel him lean down, his hands coming to rest firmly around your waist, and he says: "Are you ready for me now?"  
You sigh, an exhausted whining sigh, and there is an odd sound coming from him. A laugh. A terrifying scrambled laugh. And then you are pulled up, flipped around, and wrenched down on the table. Before you even know what's happening. You had no idea he was this strong, you find it arousing and frightening in equal measure. So while you want it, you still jump a bit when you feel his hand go between your thighs again, pushing your legs apart so you are ready and open for him. Because you don't know how far he will go.  
For a while there's nothing. No sound, no movement, just the darkness of the room around you. You're acutely aware of his presence behind you, the one strong hand planted between your shoulder blades, forcing you down on the cold table. There's music playing far away, a whole party of masked people you don't know and suddenly you realise how bad this is. You are alone with a masked man you don't know, at a party no knows you're at. No one will look for you for a considerable amount of time. If anything should happen to you. No one will come for you.  
There's a quiet rustling clothes as he shifts slightly behind you and leans down a bit and says: “That's not entirely true. I will definitely come for you… if you're good and do as you're told.”  
How… how did he… you don't even get to finish the thought before you feel him, his cock against you, sliding between your legs. A small rush of fear settles in your stomach. Except it's not fear. Not really. It's something else. An embarrassing warm feeling of excitement that you are not entirely sure you want. Except you do. This is what you have wanted all along.  
“Tell me.”  
You're not sure what he means so you ask.  
“Tell me what you've wanted all along. I want to hear you say it.”  
How does he do that? Guess what you're thinking all the time? There is of course one obvious explanation but that is too terrifying to even consider. It's probably just you going crazy. That must be it.  
“I will tell you if you take that helmet off.”  
Because you need that, you need some sort of proof that he is human, that you are not completely insane. He seems to consider it for a short moment and then, without hesitation, the hand on your back disappears,there's a small metallic sound and the sound of something hitting the floor.  
You try to turn your head to see him but immediately the hand is back, pressing you down.  
“Now…” he says, his voice unsettling and familiar, “tell me what you've been thinking about.”  
You feel him, his cock teasing at your entrance, and you're amazed at how much you want him to just fuck you. Hard. Even if you're already exhausted and tender, the thought of him inside you is making you clench a bit, like your body is literally hungry for him.  
“Tell me. Tell me all that.”  
He sounds impatient now, his voice straining a bit, so you tell him.  
“I want it… I want you… I want you to fuck me...I need it.”  
“Do you need this?” He says this as you feel him sliding deep into you, stretching you open to him, and a low moan escapes you.  
“Oh you really need this, don't you? You need to be fucked hard like the dirty...dirty girl you are…”  
His words are making you shiver, the pure filth of it all and you nod, head down against the table but still you nod.  
Seemingly satisfied with that answer he grabs your hips and you feel him move inside you, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back deep into you as you cry out in surprise. This is nothing like you had imagined but it is somehow making your whole body shiver for him, at the sound of his skin against yours, his breathing that's getting heavier with every thrust. You reach back, trying to touch, to grab anything, just something, and to your surprise one of his hands leaves your hip and finds yours. His fingers entwined with yours as he leans down to you, wraps his arm (and yours) around you and pulls you against him.  
“You like this, don't you? You love being fucked like this.”  
His mouth is close to your ear and you feel his breath on your neck, making you crane your neck a bit in an attempt to make contact with his lips… the thought of his soft lips on your neck is everything you want right now as you feel yourself melting into his arms as he is fucking you.  
“This is what you've been wanting all along, isn't it? To be fucked like this. To take my cock like this… yes…”  
His mouth finally finds your neck and you let out a sigh, which comes out as almost a small whimper, of release and you feel him smile against you.  
“You feel so good around my cock… so fucking tight…”  
He says this but immediately, to your surprise, pulls out of you and you're about to protest when something black comes down over your head. For a second you start to panic until you realise what's happening. The cowl. He has taken it off and put it over your head. Knowing doesn't stop the panic completely though, what if he really is a crazy person, here to kill you?  
His hands grab you again, turn you around, so you're up against the table, face to face with him. If you could see his face, that is. Instead everything is a black blur under the rough fabric. For a brief second he seems to be watching you, you can sense it, like you could feel him looking at you in the crowd at the party. You get a little uneasy, unsure of what he will do next, when you feel him kneel in front of you again, grab the hem of your dress and then there's the familiar sound of fabric tearing.  
He stands up in front of you again and you feel his hands go under the cowl, and as it slides down, away from your head, you are being blindfolded with a piece of your own dress. You reach up to adjust it a bit while he is tying it, his hands almost gentle trying to avoid tying it into your hair, and he lets you do it. You lift it a tiny bit without him noticing and you get brief glimpse in the dark of his face, his chin, his nose, his mouth in front of your forehead, and you nearly scream. Because it's not possible. Because it can't be him. And then everything goes dark again as he tightens the knot.  
"I told you I want to see your face..."  
His voice is close to your face now and your mouth drop open as you feel a gloved hand lightly caressing your neck and throat and suddenly his mouth is on yours. Kissing you with an urgency you hadn't expected. As if he has been wanting this for as long as you have. You instinctively reach out for him, your fingers in his hair, as you return his kiss. A low hum vibrates through you as he moans slightly into your mouth, melting away any doubt you might still have had.

His hands are back on your hips, pushing you onto the table, as they move down your thighs, the warm leather leaving goosebumps in its wake. You feel everything much more acutely with the blindfold, as if every touch is a small surprise that makes you shiver. He opens your legs to him, wraps them around his waist while his mouth is still pressed against yours. Where he was very much in charge before, you sense that he is running out of patience, which is only confirmed when he thrusts hard into you again with a loud groan, unable to control himself.  
Once again his hand finds your lower back to hold you there, against him, as he starts fucking you. Surprisingly slowly. Filling you in ways that are both delicious and nearly painful.  
"You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"  
The voice, THAT voice, right next to your ear as his other hand finds its way into your hair to pull it lightly.  
"Yes..."  
You can't deny that. You have been thinking about this a lot, possibly too much, how it would be to have him on you, against you, inside you, in every possible way.  
"Yes..." he says. "Tell me... when you were thinking about this.. about me fucking you... were you touching yourself?"  
You can feel yourself blush in the dark, as he is still fucking you so slowly, relishing every little feeling of you, thank God he can't see you blush. But the words, hearing him say that, make you clench hard around his cock. You feel a small, slightly surprised gasp of breath near your ear and he almost laughs.  
"I felt that... I'll take that as a yes."  
He whispers this in your ear as he starts moving a tiny bit faster.  
"You are such a dirty...dirty girl..."  
You are still tender from the earlier orgasms (for a brief moment you wonder if this is your life now, being forced to come over and over) and he is fucking you quite deliberately now, again and again striking something inside you that makes you unable to do anything other than moan as you hold onto him, your fingers squeezing inside his collar at the back of his neck, just to feel something other than cloth, to feel his skin. You are almost getting closer again, caught up in the rhythm, when suddenly out of nowhere he stops again. You're about to protest when you feel his teeth dragging along your collarbone, up your neck, and he is back close to your ear and he says:  
"You know what you have to do. Beg for it. Come on. Tell me you need it... "  
His voice is strained now, and you realise as you feel him tense against you, that this is nearly as difficult for him as it is for you. That every fiber in his body is telling him to just fuck you so hard, to come so deep inside you. And the thought is enough for you to do as you're told. So you beg. You tell him how much you need it, how much you want him, how much you've always wanted him, how much you need to come again. And he starts fucking you again, hard and fast this time, as he says: "You wanna come on my cock, don't you?"  
"Yes..."  
"Say it..."  
You are so close now, you can only focus on the feeling of him, his hands on you holding you in place.  
"...I need to come on your cock... please make me come..."  
"You're gonna come for me like the dirty girl you are... that's it.... come for me..."  
His voice breaks as you feel yourself fall apart in his arms, as his grip on you tightens and you come so hard, moaning his name as your hands find his ass and you pull him as deep as possible inside you. There's a sound, a loud almost feral groan as he comes, gripping you so tightly against him that he is hurting you.

Everything is dark. He has moved away from you but you are still wearing the blindfold. Worried what might happen if you take it off. What you might see. You can hear him there, moving a bit, and suddenly there's a hand behind your head taking off the blindfold. It's takes a second or two for your eyes to adjust, before you see him.  
He is wearing the helmet again. Standing there. Very still. Clearly looking at you. Without a word he slowly takes his gloves off and you hold your breath when he reaches out and lightly touches your face. Warm fingers slowly running over your lips, your cheeks.  
He reaches down beside you and picks up your mask from the table. Lifts it to your face and ties it behind your head. Puts his gloves back on and says: "If you think of me very hard... I might come back. Just think of me...hard."  
You can almost hear the smirk in his voice and you say: "I think I can do that."  
"Oh I know you can. When you're alone... think of me when you're alone."  
And with those words he turns around and leaves, the door closing behind him before you get a chance to answer.  
You quickly pick up your underwear and go into the hallway but he is gone. Nowhere to be seen.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a pure fantasy piece. It can be read in any way you want. Is it the boyfriend, is it Kylo Ren, is Reader fantasizing? Anything is possible.


End file.
